Whatever Comes Tomorrow
by redcandle
Summary: Jaime gets the truth from Brienne. Set right after his chapter in ADwD.


The wench was a terrible liar. She had not looked him in the eye when she told her tale, and afterward, whenever he looked into her sapphire eyes, he saw misery. Jaime forced himself to remain amiable. Whatever was going on, she would not have become a participant willingly. Betrayal was not in her nature.

"Tell me again," he said, when they'd made camp and gotten a fire started.

Brienne seemed determined to groom her gelding bald. She studiously brushed the animal, sparing not even a glance Jaime's way. "Outlaws found me at the inn at the crossroads. They'd heard I was asking after the Lady Sansa, and their leader, the Hound, thought they could make use of me. He wanted me to tell you he had your brother's wife and if you didn't come meet with him alone, he'd kill her."

Perhaps Sandor had somehow gotten hold of Sansa Stark after the girl fled King's Landing the night of Joffrey's wedding and murder. Perhaps he had tired of outlawing and sought to trade Sansa for a pardon. It was a plausible story. But Brienne told it as if it was just that, a story.

Jaime unpacked the hard bread and salted mutton his steward had given him for provisions. There was a pair of withered apples at the bottom of the bag, too, and a skin of inferior wine. iA fine feast for what could be my last night alive./i But food was scarce in the riverlands, even for those with gold to buy it. His father had seen to it that the rivermen's harvest burned.

"You spoke with Sandor?" he asked Brienne.

She hesitated, then she answered, "Yes."

"Can you answer me one question, my lady?"

His tone made her look up finally. "What question is that, ser?" she asked warily.

"Those infamous burn scars of Sandor's - iwhat side of his face are they on/i?"

She had a fifty-fifty chance of getting it right. When she did not answer, Jaime knew the truth. Brienne had never met with Sandor Clegane. Still, he pushed her. "Come, wench. Left or right, which is it?"

She turned away from him and bent over her horse. Jaime went to her. Even before he saw the tears on her cheeks, he knew she was crying. He drew her against his chest and held her.

"I'm sorry," she sobbed. "Jaime, I'm so sorry. They were killing Pod and Ser Hyle. I only agreed to save them."

"I believe you." He would have kissed her forehead, but she was taller than he, so Jaime kissed the corner of her mouth. "We'll be all right. We survived the Bloody Mummers, didn't we? We can handle this lot."

He was only trying to comfort her. Jaime knew very well he was in trouble. He might have survived the Bloody Mummers, but they'd taken his sword hand. He was useless in a fight now. If he was to survive, he'd have to use his wits and his words. But those had ever been Tyrion's weapons, not his, and he was not sure he could wield them well enough to save his life.

"So who really awaits us, if not Sandor?"

Brienne removed herself from his embrace and wiped her eyes. "It is my lady."

Jaime was confused. To his knowledge, the only woman Brienne had served was the late Catelyn Stark.

"Thoros said they found her after the Red Wedding and Lord Beric gave her his life."

"iCatelyn is alive?!/i"

Brienne shook her head. "Not truly. She walks, though, and she hates. She can't speak - the Freys cut her throat too deep for even the red god's magic - but she can make her will known to her men. I told her the truth, how you'd given Oathkeeper to me and sent me to find Sansa and protect her, but she did not believe me. She thinks I am a traitor."

Catelyn Stark had freed him in a desperate attempt to exchange him for her daughters. Only she and her son had been murdered before Jaime even reached King's Landing. She would never believe Jaime had nothing to do with it. Jaime thought of her other son, the one he'd flung from a tower window and made a cripple. His phantom hand twinged. If anyone had the right to pass judgment on him, he supposed it was Lady Catelyn.

"Catelyn is Stoneheart." It was not a question.

Brienne answered nonetheless. "Yes."

Jaime sprawled by the fire and summoned a reckless grin for Brienne. "Come share this sour Dornish red, wench."

"Jaime..."

"If you leave me to drink by myself, I'll get drunk and get to thinking that I should have a woman one last time before I face my death - and you are the only woman hereabout."

A blush rose to her homely face. A fiercer warrior than most men and she was still the shy maid. It made Jaime chuckle. She was as different from his sister as two women could be.

"Cersei has been imprisoned by the High Septon," he told her. "He means to put her on trial for her crimes." Jaime laughed, realizing he and his twin would both be answering for their sins. He'd always thought they would leave this world as they'd entered it, together, but it seemed the gods had a different plan.

Brienne was shocked. "Why haven't you gone to her?"

Jaime didn't want to answer that. He took a long drink from the wineskin. When he was done, he saw that Brienne was holding out her hand for the wine, perhaps afraid he would drink himself drunk. He handed it over to her and laid back on his bedroll. It had been a long time since he last looked at the stars, really looked and saw their beauty and majesty.

"Do you believe that our destinies are written in the stars, Brienne?"

"The Seven gave us freedom to make our own choices."

It was easier to believe in destiny, for if his own choices had led him here, then he had no one to blame but himself. Accepting the white cloak, standing by idly for two years while Aerys burned people, slaying Aerys, choosing to remain in the Kingsguard, loving Cersei and cuckolding Robert - those had been his choices.

"You are not at fault, Brienne, whatever happens tomorrow," he said softly. She had a tender heart and was likely to blame herself if tomorrow saw him dangling from a noose, but it would be undeserved. Her faith in the ideals of knighthood had helped rekindle his own desire to be a true knight. He wanted to tell her she was the closest thing to a true knight he'd ever met, but she would think he was mocking her. Instead he told her, "If you'd been born a man, you would have been a fine white knight."

She said nothing. Jaime suspected she was weeping again. He reached for her arm and hauled her against him. She was stiff at first, then she relaxed and draped her arm around him. Jaime was not sure who was comforting whom. He closed his eyes and waited for dawn.


End file.
